I went to Hell for the weekend. Not a break exactly, more a sort of accident, a collusion of circumstances and I found out something interesting. Hell comes in many shapes and forms, discovering and magnifying your fears, whatever they may be. Mine, it seems, are to be near invisible. To walk along familiar streets, increasingly unseen, until being lost is no longer a matter of geography but merely circumstance.

All things are foreign: the play will start without you, the meal has been eaten and Hope has gone to bed, until those lines I treasure “Only connect” become unrecognised. Walking on through the day, a subject of minimal indifferent courtesies, you are a refugee wandering in eternity: a man who sees people smiling at each other, bending down to fuss over dogs, before collecting themselves to pass another stranger, knowing the man they always pass is you.

“And what did you do ?” some voice asks you, and you realise the voice is just yourself, trying to remember some act or thought you did. or had, which might engage the hearts of others. It is a twentieth century death, a modern dissolution, only possible in a world of no community, where personal space is the new gold, and invading privacies a global crime.

The wilderness is a state of mind, and you are free to roam it unmissed and unlamented. One of the undead whose movements are not a matter of record and whose epitaph remains unsought for and unstated.

22 Responses to Hell For The Weekend

this is very sad, and at the same time, very beautifully written. i think that being alive is all about connection, and without it, you are right, we are left drifting out to sea, kept afloat by an occasional piece of driftwood that happens by.

Beautifully written Peter and very sad too. ‘Connection’ has become a meaningless word hasnt it? I often spend a lot of time at home alone these days, which I dont mind too much as I know there will be real people here with me at the end of the day. But on a down day there is nothing worse than an automated voice on the other end of the phone offering me solar panels or loft insulation. The ring ofthe phone no longer makes me smile; it makes me swear, and very rudely too

A beautifully written piece on modern day isolation, Peter; sad but true.
It reminded me of what an old Yorkshire friend used to say (the words may not be exact, but the meaning is the same): ‘The whole world’s mad apart from you and I, and I’m not so sure about you!’

I don’t think all connection is lost but it is how we make the most of it in our day to day lives. I think it is good to start conversations with the barista that makes your coffee or even a pleasant smile to someone passing your way.

I’m new to your blog, Peter, yet reading this posting makes me feel as if I have connected with a world in which I’d like to wander. A very touching piece of writing I can relate to very much. Your readers’ responses are also wonderful to read and think about. I think I’ll find other bloggers to follow from your fans. I find this posting very inspiring…perhaps it will lead me where I need to be right now.